The golden light of dusk filtered through the windows as Hong Fei returned with a tray of nutritious food. He pushed the door open to see the bedsheets twitch, then go still. "Half a day apart and you're giving me the cold shoulder?" He set the meal down with a clatter before perching on the edge of the mattress, watching the lump under the covers.
Dr. Helen Cho's eyelashes fluttered against flushed cheeks before she yanked the quilt over her head entirely. Hong Fei's chuckle rumbled through the room as muffled protests came from the fabric cocoon. He cleared his throat, softening his tone. "Come out. I brought dinner—you must be starving by now."
A tiny "Mm" escaped from beneath the covers.
The quilt rustled like a restless tide. Occasionally, a slender arm would dart out to snatch scattered clothing from the mattress before vanishing again. Hong Fei glanced down to find a lace bra wedged under his thigh. As he reached for it, Helen sat up in a tangle of sheets. She swept her hair back with one hand while crawling toward the bed's edge on her knees.
Hong Fei's breath caught. Dangerous territory. "Still need this?" He dangled the underwear between two fingers, giving it a playful shake.
Helen shot him a glare over her shoulder before turning away with a huff. "You wear it!"
"Not sure it'd fit my... proportions."
The bathroom door creaked open after her shower. She emerged wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt that barely grazed mid-thigh. As she twisted her damp hair into a towel, the fabric rode higher, showcasing legs that belonged on a Milan runway—all toned curves and effortless grace. Hong Fei rubbed his lower back absently. No wonder last night felt like being constricted by anacondas.
She moved through the room with deliberate blindness, pretending not to notice his presence until settling at the table. Hong Fei's gaze traveled up those endless legs like a slow caress.
"Eyes up here." She crossed her arms over her chest, the scolding tone undercut by its breathiness.
Hong Fei slid the tray toward her with a smirk. "Eat."
She picked at her food with delicate precision, the sunset painting her profile in molten gold. Between bites, her lashes would lift to reveal eyes brimming with equal parts irritation and reluctant affection.
"There's more to what I said yesterday," Hong Fei blurted.
Helen pursed her lips around a forkful. "I know."
"Good."
Smart woman—even if she hadn't pieced it together in the moment, twenty-four hours was more than enough for that brilliant mind to connect the dots.
Her fork clinked against the plate. "That's why I punished you last night."
Hong Fei's silence spoke volumes.
"Was I wrong?" she demanded, lifting her chin.
"Not at all."
Later, after draining her water glass, Helen sighed and rubbed her stomach contentedly. She rose to clear the dishes, then pivoted abruptly to straddle Hong Fei's lap despite her burning cheeks. "Dinner was... adequate." Her fingers toyed with his collar. "How shall I repay you?"
Hong Fei cocked his head. "No need for transactions between us."
"Nonsense. Name your price."
"Oh?"
Dawn found Helen dragging herself from bed despite Hong Fei's protests. After their... vigorous negotiations, she limped back to her workstation with the stubborn dignity of a wounded soldier. If anyone deserved blame, it was Hong Fei for his excessive "energy transfers" that left her equally stimulated for combat and research. Never mind that he'd already "invested" several hundred million over forty-eight hours...
Returning to the main topic, the laboratory's investment hadn't yet hit fifty million when Hong Fei made up the difference. For the next fortnight, trucks delivered equipment and supplies in a steady stream while nothing left the premises. Helen buried herself in work, living at the lab, and Hong Fei knew better than to disturb her focus.
The tank business was booming, with new buyers popping up every few days. Hong Fei decided to let the list build up—he'd visit them all in one go later.
"Ms. Natalie, what's this about? We were getting along just fine." Hong Fei's voice dripped with wounded confusion, like a jilted lover nursing his first heartbreak.
Natasha's reply was all professional courtesy. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. Hong. I hoped we could work together too, but after careful consideration, I've decided to withdraw. Perhaps another opportunity will arise in the future."
Hong Fei tried to change her mind, then let it go with a sigh when she held firm. The call ended with a quiet click.
Deceive Time and Crowd really lived up to its low-probability description. After all this time, Natasha still didn't fully trust him. Then again, that was just how spies operated. Whether they'd work together later depended entirely on when the skill card kicked in.
By now, Tony Stark had probably stormed into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Whether they'd sent an agent to tail him or withheld his father's legacy—never mind that the latter didn't directly cause his poisoning—would a guy like Tony care about technicalities? Logically, Natasha should've abandoned her undercover assignment around him. But Fury wasn't exactly the compromising type.
Her rejection meant she had another long-term job. Hong Fei couldn't think of anyone else but Tony. The irony was delicious—if he ran into Stark now and found "Natalie" on his payroll after blowing him off, it'd be downright comedic.
Not that Hong Fei had any real interest in Stark. Without Peter Parker in the picture, he wouldn't bother engaging with the man at all. Sure, Tony was fundamentally decent—destined to be a proper hero—but friendship? Impossible. Even without past friction, future clashes were inevitable.
Working together would be a disaster. Between Tony's default sarcasm and Hong Fei's temper, it'd be a miracle if fists didn't fly. Better to keep their distance. Rob him blind when possible; ignore him when not. Status quo worked just fine.
Over at Gonggong Laboratory, Dr. Helen Cho had been acting strangely lately. She'd offloaded several ongoing projects to her assistants, locking herself in her private lab for days. Isolating the Regeneration Cradle's nanotech for independent study raised eyebrows among the team.
Right now, she stood at her workbench, laser-focused on the data stream. A mannequin lay before her. As she input commands, the glass shield slid up, bathing the dummy in blue light. An alien material shimmered into existence across its surface.
Hong Fei's phone buzzed—Chen Qi calling. After brief pleasantries, the man cut to the chase.
"Little White Rabbit, saw you in the news again. Coincidentally, we've made progress here. Want to come test a set? Consider it doing us a favor."
"That fast? Impressive."
"Energy's the core, so once we cracked that..."
Compared to the Iron Man Armor, there is definitely still a noticeable gap—shock absorption and life support need work. But it's functional for initial trials."
Hong Fei hesitated. "I'll take one for the collection, but personally? Not a fan of full-metal suits."
"Really? Well, guess you'll have to wait a bit longer then."
The polished version with improved flow and natural dialogue:
"After the testing here is done, I'll give you an official version."
"That'd be fantastic!" Hong Fei's voice warmed with genuine appreciation.
"Don't mention it—what are friends for?"
The old saying drifted through Hong Fei's mind: When you drink the water, remember who dug the well. Whether Chen Qi had acted deliberately or not hardly mattered now—the debt stood acknowledged.
Phone cradled against his shoulder, Hong Fei's fingers flew across the keyboard. A single terse message appeared on Ivan Vanko's screen:
"Execute the operation."